Mother says slain lance corporal wanted to be sent to Iraq rather than be around alleged attacker
By Mary McCarty and Margo Rutledge Kissell
Staff Writers
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Mary Lauterbach was strolling out of Wal-Mart on May 10 when her cell phone rang. Maria again. Her oldest daughter, "strong as a bobcat," had seemed lonely and vulnerable since being stationed at Camp Lejeune, N.C.
It was, after all, the first time away from home for the 20-year-old Marine lance corporal from Vandalia. She called three or four times a day — so often that Mary found herself guiltily screening her calls.
Maria gasped out the words between sobs: "Mom, I was attacked."
She didn't reveal the name of her attacker, only that he was Hispanic, a married man with a child. She said the two Marines had been assigned to night duty together when the man locked all the doors and raped her.
"Maria, when did that happen?" her mother asked. "April 10." "You realize you've lost all your evidence now?"
Then her mother got even more stern with her daughter:
"Maria, you have to know you cannot make any false statements because that is one of the worst things you could possibly do. You could ruin somebody's career, and you won't be doing yourself any favors either when they find out."
Mary Lauterbach had a solid reason for these words of motherly caution. While assigned to Marine Occupation Specialties School at Camp Lejeune in the fall of 2006, Maria told a disturbing lie to some of her fellow Marines, claiming her father had accidentally killed her 6-year-old brother by throwing a lamp at him. Lauterbach was placed in counseling after her mother assured authorities that Maria's actual brother, nearly 9 at the time, was alive and well.
Now, Mary Lauterbach told her daughter, it was imperative to tell the truth about the rape allegations. "Maria, if this is true, you have to report it, to protect all the other female Marines there," she said.
An avid fan of TV crime dramas, Maria spent her last two years of high school studying criminal justice at a vocational school. Why did she wait so long before reporting the crime, her mother asked, when she knew better?
Maria replied, "I didn't think anyone was going to believe me."
'I know there's going to be hell to pay'
Lauterbach kept her promise to her mother the next day, telling her officer-in-charge about two occasions when she said Cpl. Cesar Laurean raped her. She filed a formal complaint with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service office, stating the first rape occurred on March 26, and the second approximately two weeks later.
On May 12, the company commander told Laurean not to initiate any contact or communication with Lauterbach and to stay at least 1,000 feet from her. That same day the regimental commander reassigned her to a duty office across the base from where Laurean worked.
Lauterbach wanted to be moved farther away from Laurean. Much farther.
Maria confided to her mother that her attacker was "very popular," and said, "I know there's going to be hell to pay for saying anything."
On May 18, Laurean told NCIS investigators he did not have sexual contact with Lauterbach. The next week, the company commander issued a written Military Protective Order that would later be extended through Dec. 23. The Marine Corps said it was established to preserve the integrity of the investigation and was "not based on any perceived threat" toward Lauterbach.
When she vacationed at her parents' home in Vandalia in mid-June, Maria came down with what appeared to be the flu. She learned why after she returned to Camp Lejeune.
"Mom, I'm pregnant," she told Mary in a phone call.
Raised in a strongly pro-life family, Lauterbach never considered an abortion. Her parents had adopted her when she was 19 months old, and she told her mother she planned to give the baby up for adoption.
"Maria, if you never do another thing in your whole life, you are a hero by doing that," Mary told her.
Lauterbach told NCIS that Laurean was the father as the result of the rape. But in a July e-mail to a friend from boot camp, informing her of the pregnancy, she referred to "an incident," but didn't use the word rape.
"Is that (the pregnancy) a good thing or a bad thing?" asked Marine Lance Cpl. Jessica Riley.
"Well, I have to wait and see," Lauterbach replied.
'What are you doing to us?'
As the summer wore on, Lauterbach reported several incidents of harassment to her mother.
In August, a man called Lauterbach's name and punched her in the face, knocking her down, she said. Lauterbach felt certain it was one of Laurean's friends but never filed a formal complaint.
Later in the summer, somebody keyed her blue 2006 Hyundai Sonata from the front door all the way back to the tail lights.
Maria also told her mother about an ugly confrontation involving Laurean's wife, Christina. Maria said Christina called her a "bitch," and said, "What are you doing to us?"
On Oct. 18, NCIS recommended no disciplinary action in the rape case "until forensic evidence DNA can be retrieved from the child." ...Why? Rape is rape, paternity is a whole other matter...?
Thirteen days later, her command granted Lauterbach permission to move into off-base housing. A friend, Sgt. Daniel Durham, offered a place to stay out of sympathy for her plight.
"He babied her a little bit ... but it was strictly a hands-off relationship," Mary Lauterbach said.
Living off base didn't prevent Maria from encounters with Laurean, however. On several occasions she told her mother she had to go to meetings and "he's going to be there again."
"Maria, this is ridiculous. You have a restraining order on this guy," Mary Lauterbach said she told her daughter during one conversation. "I said you need to complain to somebody and tell them you're just not going to go."
Meanwhile, her Jan. 15 due date was fast approaching. During an appointment at the Camp Lejeune Naval Hospital on Nov. 26, her obstetrician said her baby weighed more than 6 pounds.
Ashley Dupuis, 19, a friend from boot camp, called in early December to see how Maria was doing.
Maria once loved the Marine Corps so much she had a USMC bulldog tattooed on her upper right arm. Now, Dupuis said, "She didn't like it and she wanted to get out."
'I'm going away'
Mary Lauterbach's last conversation with her daughter occurred Dec. 14, when Maria called her about 2:30 p.m. at her office at the University of Dayton. Maria felt she needed to make an appearance at a command Christmas party, even though she knew Laurean would be there. "Call me when you get home from the party," her mother said.
That night, Durham called, saying Maria had left a note, which stated, according to the Marine Corps, "I could not take this Marine Corps life anymore. So I'm going away. Sorry for the inconvenience, Maria."
Mary Lauterbach said Durham begged her not to file a missing persons report because he was concerned the Marines would put her into a status known as unauthorized absence. "You're going to get her in a lot of trouble," she said he warned.
Durham did not respond to numerous efforts to contact him.
Video surveillance cameras from that day show Lauterbach withdrawing $700 from her account at an ATM in Jacksonville, N.C. Then, on Dec. 15, someone purchased a Greyhound one-way bus ticket in Lauterbach's name to El Paso, Texas, departing that evening. It was never redeemed.
Mary Lauterbach filed a missing persons report in Vandalia on Dec. 18, and the police department alerted the Onslow County Sheriff's Office in Jacksonville.
Lance Cpl. Lauterbach, the Marines determined, has "voluntarily placed herself in an unauthorized absence status" based on the note she left behind. Her car and some other personal items also were missing.
As one first sergeant explained to Lauterbach, "We have so many missing people we don't possibly have the resources to go out looking for them."
'I want you to find my daughter'
When an Onslow County sheriff's investigator asked Mary Lauterbach to send an e-mail telling everything she could about her daughter, she didn't hold back.
"For 10 minutes I pounded out a three-page e-mail that I didn't even re-read," she said. At the bottom of the e-mail she wrote, "I am holding nothing back from you because I want you to find my daughter."
Some of her statements were summarized — inaccurately, she contends — in the search warrants regarding her daughter's disappearance. "I said she had problems with occasional compulsive lying," she said. She also speculated that Maria's biological father suffered from bipolar disorder.
In the search warrant affidavit, her words became simplified as calling her daughter "bipolar" and a "compulsive liar." Before it was all over, those words would appear on CNN's red news ticker and pounced on by the news network's self-styled victims' advocate, Nancy Grace, who snorted, "I can't believe the things that were being said by that family."
The case only started to heat up when Mary Lauterbach and her brother, Kentucky psychiatrist Dr. Peter Steiner, showed up at the base on Jan. 7 accompanied by an Onslow County sheriff's detective. The Marine Corps later contended, "This the first indication to the command that foul play may be suspected in her absence."
That's nonsense, Mary Lauterbach now says: "From Day 1, I voiced that concern." But things finally seemed to be happening. That same day — 25 days after Lauterbach vanished — Laurean was brought to NCIS to speak with the sheriff's office. "He is questioned as a possible witness, not a suspect," the Marine Corps said.
On Jan. 8, the sheriff's office issued the first press release about the missing, pregnant Marine. Before long, the parking lot became a makeshift media encampment, swarming with news crews from across the country.
Then, on Jan. 11, Laurean failed to report to work.
Onslow County Sheriff Ed Brown scheduled a news conference at noon and hinted during nationally televised interviews that a positive outcome still seemed possible. That prompted Mary Lauterbach to call the sheriff to see if Maria had been found. "If we find your daughter, you'll be the first to know," Brown assured her.
Shortly before noon, the sheriff called back with news of some "negative developments." In her dazed state, Lauterbach didn't think to ask what he meant. She found out along with the rest of the country when, in bold red letters, CNN bannered the headline, "Maria Lauterbach is dead."
'Stellar' Marine
Christina Laurean had come forward with a note from her husband claiming that Lauterbach committed suicide and that he panicked and buried her in the woods near the couple's house. It was the break the investigators needed.
The next day, her body was found in the fire pit in the couple's backyard. An autopsy revealed she died from blunt force trauma to the head — probably from a crowbar, investigators now believe. Cesar Laurean leapfrogged to the top of the FBI's Most Wanted List.
During daily press conferences, reporters asked Brown variations of the same questions: "With the rape charges out there, why did it take nearly a month for investigators to look at him seriously as a suspect?" Why weren't basic investigative techniques — such as a trace of the use of her ATM card — employed earlier?
The sheriff gave variations of the same answer: Authorities considered Lauterbach AWOL until the moment Laurean's wife handed them the note telling them where to find the body.
Last Monday, Brown said the sheriff's office regarded the alleged rape as a "minor incident" that had "no validity" to the investigation. "Holiday leave" at the base was frequently cited as a reason for delays in information being passed along by investigators.
Even after the discovery of the body, investigators seemed oddly focused on refuting the rape charges. "After the Duke case, we are all sensitive to the fact that false accusations can be made," said District Attorney Dewey Hudson.
Another reporter raised his hand, trying one more time. "But it seems like Laurean would have been looked at seriously as a suspect, because of the rape charges, whether they were true or false." Brown finally lost his patience. "There are a lot of things that 'seem like,'" he barked.
On Tuesday, the Marine Corps held its own press conference, challenging the timetable set forward by the sheriff's office. Early in the press conference Lauterbach was described as a "solid Marine," and Laurean as "a stellar Marine."
Marine officials said Lauterbach met with prosecutors in November and told them she no longer believed Laurean was the father. Col. Gary Sokoloski stated, "At no time did she indicate that she was threatened by Cpl. Laurean."
'The perfect victim'
The city of Jacksonville, N.C. — population 66,715 — is grieving a crime that seems to strike at the very core of who they are. "Marines don't do this to other Marines" is an often-heard refrain.
Townspeople also wonder what needs to be changed about the culture of the Marine Corps — and of the town itself — that would be so slow to make a connection between a rape charge and the disappearance of a pregnant Marine.
"Absolutely she would still be alive if the Marines had taken her seriously," said Marsha Williams, who lives across the street from where Lauterbach was staying. She said sheriff's investigators didn't knock on her door until Jan. 7, when they asked her to leave a note for Lauterbach's housemates. "She was missing for three weeks yet it took them until Jan. 7 to come to that house?" she said. "That's too much of a gap."
The Lauterbach family holds the highest respect for the Marine Corps. They're a military family, going back for generations, and Maria's father, Victor, is in an Air Force Reserve unit at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. They sent their daughter off to the military believing it would be a safer environment than college because of the structure, authority and celebrated brotherhood of the Marines.
"She'll always have somebody watching out for her," her parents reasoned. Now, Mary hopes the tragedy will prompt some soul-searching on the part of the Marine Corps. Among the changes she will advocate: a guaranteed base change for Marines who bring forth rape allegations.
"My instinct tells me the majority of rapes are not reported. For a woman to come forward and complain about a rape takes a lot," she said. "It took Maria a lot."
As Cesar Laurean remains hidden from authorities, many questions remain unanswered about the sad, disturbing saga of Maria Lauterbach. None are more painful than the ones tormenting the family. What if Maria had never made up the story about her brother? It may have been a cry for attention, a reaction to the stress of Marine Corps life. It may also have been fatal.
"Because someone might have perceived credibility issues, that doesn't mean you can just presume they're lying," Mary Lauterbach said. "Think about it. My daughter was a beautiful girl with a beautiful figure and perceived credibility issues. That set her up to be the perfect victim."
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